Take My Hand
by Glinda
Summary: 9DocRose An Angsty little friendship fic about the nature of love and lonliness. Jack POV


AUTHOR: Glinda

TITLE: Take My Hand

CATEGORY: Angst/Romance…I can't write anything else

PAIRING: 9Doctor/Rose

SPOILERS: Ummm Jack's in it, and there's references to the whole "Bad Wolf" thing so I reckon post 'Boom Town' and pre 'Bad Wolf'

WARNING: Really there isn't all that much…

DISCLAIMER: Not mine, don't own anything. Just a poor little Uni. student trying to stay sane by letting her imagination run wild. Not making any money…just doin this for fun! Plz don't sue! The characters belong to the good ol BBC and the song is Take My Hand by Dido and belongs to her. Snoopy and the rest of the Peanuts gang belong to Charles M. Shulz

AUTHOR'S NOTES: It's been a very long time since I last wrote fic for this fandom…and when I say a long time I'm talking 7 or 8 years! And when I wrote that I didn't even do angst/romance stuff…it was strictly action/adventure in those days! But as I've had writers block for about 6 months I'm so not going to complain! No idea where this one came from…answers on a postcard to the usual address…

The only love that lasts forever is unrequited love. Unspoken it exists only in stolen moments, dreams and fantasies. Innocent and pure, unsullied by the harsh realities of relationships in the real world. The saddest kind of love is when unrequited love goes both ways.

They're star-gazing again. Despite the distinct nip in the air, they're outside on some unknown and presumably - hopefully, last time they did this on Earth they nearly got trodden on by an indignant cow - uninhabited planet. A couple of weeks back I found out that the TARDIS can project the stars over her point in space onto the control room ceiling. I wondered if the Doctor knew and nearly got my head bitten off.

"Of course I know! I used to have it set up like that all the time in my last incarnation. As if I don't know my own ship…"

"Then why…?"

Rose just grinned mischeviously at me and shrugged,

"What's the point in an observatory when you can have the real thing?"

She doesn't always make a lot of sense, that girl.

_Touch my skin and tell me what you're thinking_

Lying side by side in the grass, I know from experience there'll be a ridiculously moth-eaten tartan blanket under them to keep the dew off. He gesticulates wildly at the stars no doubt telling her some tall tale about how a particular star came to have its name. Her laughter and snatches of their conversation drift through the still night air, to where I stand in the TARDIS door way.

_Take my hand and show me where we're going_

Her hand comes up to grab one of his airborne ones and they fit together instantly as she points at a particular one, demanding to be taken there next. He props himself up on his elbows, seemingly contemplating before telling her some tall tale about why they can't possibly go there due to the only planet with a breathable atmosphere being populated entirely by a race of short, furry, fussy creatures who're employed across their arm of the Muttars Spiral as bureaucrats. Very efficient little people, he explains, but incredibly boring. She's having none of it.

_Lie down next to me_

Sitting up herself, she turns towards him, no doubt wearing a disbelieving expression that I can picture almost exactly. Scouts honour he says. She asks why she's supposed to take seriously a bunch of people who consider wibwibwib wobwobwob as a solemn oath. He tells her that it doesn't go like that and before he can argue further she's sprung. Flinging herself on him like a young lioness. Pinning him down, back on the ground. Demanding he tell the truth. She lets go of one arm to try and tickle the truth from him but it gives him the leeway to retaliate. Watching them rolling around in the grass tickling each other, each trying to gain the upper hand, peels of laughter and squeals interspersed with cries of "Surrender" and "Never" on both sides, seems almost voyeuristic.

_Look into my eyes and tell me_

Especially when they suddenly go still. The laughter's gone from her voice when she asks her next question. She can always tell when he's lying. She's staring down into his eyes as though they hold the answer to her question.

_Oh tell me what you're seeing_

And when she slumps down onto his chest and the only sound to drift through the night is "I'm sorry", I know they do. His head's turned to the side and I wonder if he's crying, I'm pretty sure from the way her shoulders spasm every so often that she is.

_So sit on top of the world and tell me how you're feeling, _

A star without its planetary system. I can't help wondering: does it know? Does it feel the loss of the planet that once circled it? The billions of lives that existed under its fiery eye? The people that kept such a careful watch on time, preventing paradoxes, reversing anomalies, keeping the Reapers at bay.

_What you feel now is what I feel for you._

Rose told me once that the first place he took her was to witness the death of her own planet. Said she thought it had been the only way he could bring himself to tell her about what had happened to his own planet. I think she's almost right. He needed someone to understand, even if it was only slightly, the pain he has to live with everyday. So that, even if only for a few minutes that day, she could begin to comprehend what it felt like. It worked. Rose, with her big soft heart and vivid imagination can imagine it only to well - and know that its only a drop in the ocean compared to the soul destroying immensity of your entire planet not only ceasing to exist, but ceasing to ever have existed. All she has to do is look in his eyes when his guard is down. Such loneliness.

_Take my hand and if I'm lying to you, _

Her hands reach out to his where he's let them fall by their sides. Fingers mesh and a half hearted though entirely grateful smile is shared.

_I'll always be alone,_

I think I've found out why they spend so much time holding hands like a couple of kids. Its reassuring. It's her way of reminding him that as long as she's there he doesn't have to be lonely anymore. It's his way of convincing himself of that same thing.

_If I'm lying to you_

That sort of connection doesn't require words. Words would be clumsy, cliché, inadequate. Comforting lies that mean nothing and only cause more distance. A squeeze of a hand or a head rested on a shoulder is more honest than a shot of Scopolamine in a major artery.

_See my eyes, they carry your reflection_

They've both got such expressive eyes. Eyes that look so much older than the body that houses them.

_Watch my lips and hear the words I'm telling you,_

She's asking him, almost begging him, to tell her what Galifrey was like. How he remembers it. On the planet that never circled the star that they can see but doesn't exist anymore. He took her to see the end of her world, hasn't that earned her the right to at least share the memory of his?

_Give your trust to me and look into my heart_

He stares back for a long time before he says anything. As though he can see the answer to the mysteries of the universe in her eyes. Then slowly he nods.

_And show me, show me what you're doing_

He starts slowly. Hesitantly. Insisting that by and large they really were a race of stuffy, fussy, officious bureaucrats. So wrapped up in their own superiority and rules that they never really lived. As he gets into it the words come faster, more confidently. Tales of friendships, of wise teachers, wild pranks, the rough and passionate life of the Shobogan outside the Citadel, old lovers, the burnt orange colour of the sky and the fabulous meteor storms his father used to take him to watch. A whole world not simply lost but never existed. No wonder the Time Lords guarded their secrets so miserishly.

_So sit on top of the world and tell me how you're feeling _

On some unknown world where the sleeping cows are a very strange shade of blue, the secrets of the Doctor's soul are spilling out for all to hear. Except there's no-one here to hear them. No one but Rose and I.

_What you feel is what I feel for you_

Keeping the darkness and the loneliness at bay for him.

_Take my hand…_

And I wish that if I took his hand I could make the loneliness leave him alone for awhile. That I could find that comfort from the darkness in a subtle squeeze of the hand. But it wouldn't be the same. They are all to each other, two halves of an intergalactic whole, whether they know it yet or not.

_Feel the sun on your face and tell me what you're thinking,_

The dawn and encroaching clouds hide the stars from view and they slowly, reluctantly, start to gather their things to return to the TARDIS. I feel more like a third wheel than ever now. In the way, encroaching on something greater than myself. Through the clouds a shaft of sunlight illuminates Rose's face as she tilts it upwards. As though she thinks the sun will dry her tears and heal the Doctors hearts. In reality it makes her look, well…Rosy. And I wonder if things ever will be for them. His arm wraps round her and she rests her head on his shoulder. A chaste kiss on the forehead saying thankyou more eloquently than the finest orator's speech. And suddenly the heavy clouds shed their loads upon the three of us, breaking the mood and sending them scurrying for the blanket that somehow fits into the pocket of the Doctor's coat.

_Catch the snow on your tongue and show me how it tastes,_

She burls around like a small child in the sudden fall of snow. He tries to push her over and she retaliates playfully. Standing still again for a moment, face tilted upwards so the snow caresses her face the way the dawn sunbeams did not five minutes before. She sticks her tongue out to catch the falling snowflakes and the Doctor laughs at her, calling her Sally-Ann. She simply pulls a face at him and declares that happiness is catching snowflakes on your tongue. "Peanuts" I think and realise suddenly how hungry I am. How long have I been watching them for? The Doctor argues that conventional wisdom claims that "Felicitas Est Parvus Canis Calidus"1 but Rose counters that she's always preferred cats. As he crouches apparently trying to subtly make a snowball he comments that "Happiness is a warm kitten" doesn't have quite the same ring to it. Laughter fills the air as they both straighten up, each with a snowball in hand. I half expect them to start a snowball fight, when they suddenly grin mischeviously at each other.

_Take my hand and if I'm lying to you,_

Without warning they've grabbed hands and are charging back towards the TARDIS. Before I can defend myself I'm knocked to the ground helpless in the face of a combination of tickling, rugby and the freezing cold snow that's being shoved down the neck of my t-shirt.

_I'll always be alone, if I'm lying to you,_

Wrapped in a tangle of limbs, laughter and snow is more comforting than the arms of most of the men and women I've shared a bed with in a good five years. That innocent, endless love of their's engulfs me as suddenly as they grabbed me. I'm too tired to run from it this morning. I'm tired of being alone when every little thing they do tells me I don't have to be as long as I'm with them.

_Take your time and if I'm lying to you,_

So I'll fight with them and for them. Cynical innocents that they are. I'll be the one to take up a gun and fire it when the time comes. Its not either of them's style. I cannot loose them right now anymore than they can loose each other.

_I know you'll find that you believe me,_

When that "Bad Wolf" that's following them through time and across space finally catches up with them: the one they pretend is just a coincidence. I'll be waiting. Be warned, whatever you are. If you want to get them you're going to have to come through me first.

_You believe me._

Believe me.

1 Felicitas est parvus canis calidus means Happiness is a warm puppy apparently…it's a Snoopy thing!


End file.
